


Right Where He Needs To Be

by vanete_druse



Category: The Unit
Genre: (mostly comfort), 5 +1 fic, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-02
Updated: 2014-07-02
Packaged: 2018-02-07 05:28:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1886772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vanete_druse/pseuds/vanete_druse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Hector comforted Charlie over girls and one time he didn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Right Where He Needs To Be

**Author's Note:**

  * For [slashersivi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/slashersivi/gifts), [flippingthevan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flippingthevan/gifts).



> Gifting this to slashersivi for her prompt that made this story a reality and to flippingthevan for getting me into the show and turning me into an Irby fangirl. x] 
> 
> I apologize ahead of time for any mistakes as this is un-beta'ed and I should probably also proofread it a little bit closer than I have but this is the first full-length fic I've completed in a long time so I'm very excited and impatient to share. I don't think it is my best work but I hope to improve in the future, particularly within this fandom.
> 
> Also I tried really hard to get the military stuff right, and even used some stuff that my sister has talked about before, but please let me know if anything is wrong in that aspect as well. (ETA (7/4/2014): Made some minor edits to the fic for this reason, in case anyone rereads and notices some changes :3)
> 
> With that being said...I hope you guys enjoy :)

**5**

Hector’s only known Grey for two weeks and it’s only now that he realizes that this is the first time he’s ever seen the smile escape entirely from his face. Even during the grueling miles run in the heat, even entirely covered in mud, even exhausted and sore, there’s always been an aura of happiness or at the very least contentment that follows Grey around – it’s part of what attracted Hector in the first place, a bright spot in the discontent masses.

But that’s all smothered as he sits on his bunk, tapping the edge of an envelope into his palm. “Everything okay, man?”

“Oh, I’ll be fine,” Grey responds, which of course tells Hector that he isn’t _now_ , so he sits down beside him, a little stiffly, and gently pats his shoulder.

“Want to talk about it?” Hector offers, not really expecting his new friend to take him up on the proposal; they haven’t really known each other _that_ long, even if it’s felt like so much longer than merely a fortnight.

Surprisingly, Grey nods and turns his body to face the other man a little more, their knees almost touching. “It’s about my girl,” he says.

“Carmen, right? With the luscious curls and perfect hour glass body?” Hector supplies with a bit of smile.

“Right. Well…I mean, I guess I should just say it, huh? She sent me a Dear John letter.”

The smile immediately evaporates as Hector feels his heart plummet for Grey, still flicking the letter in his hand, dejected. “That’s so terrible. I’m sorry to hear that.”

The shorter man shrugs, a feeble attempt at brushing off the situation. “Oh well, life goes on.”

“Yeah, plus after all this, all you’ll have to do is walk out of the house in your uniform and all the girls will flock. You’ll forget everything about Carmen.”

Placing the letter down on the bed beside him, Grey laughs and gives Hector a slight smile – tinged with sadness, but a _smile_ nevertheless – and replies, “Well, maybe not _everything_.”

With that comment, Hector can see that Grey will be just fine, in time.

**4**

Basic Training has faded to a distant memory and with it goes all the emotions of that time, the ups and downs now smoothed to nothing more than the slight twang of hardship. Hector doesn’t give it a second thought as he fights his way to the back of the club where Grey - no, _Charlie_ \- is waiting, drinks in hand and somehow miraculously unspilled. “I am _so_ good!” He beams at the other man, who laughs as he takes his glass.

“Because being a waiter is so hard,” Charlie teases, as Hector’s still standing, looking affronted with one hand over his heart, the other gesturing wildly towards the crowd.

“Do you not see all of that going on? It’s impossible to get through without spilling anything, so technically, I’ve done the impossible and you should be bowing down.” Hector takes a seat across from Charlie, smirking a bit, which immediately fades when he notices that all he does is laugh a bit. “…what’s wrong?”

“Why does something have to be wrong?”

“C’mon on, man, I know you by now. What’s up?”

Charlie traces the rim of his glass for a moment, before beginning. “Well, I guess it’s just how everyone sees me as some kind of Casanova, you know? I know I don’t really typically date girls for that long, I mean I’m not really looking for anything serious right now. They all know it, that’s the point, it’s a mutual ‘let’s have a fun time’ thing…but the other guys are making all these jokes like I’m some kind of heartless bastard, as if I’m just fucking and dumping them.”

Hector has noticed the way Charlie’s eyes will twitch and his body will tense slightly at the catcalls from the other men in the barracks, even as he laughs along with everyone else – he’s deliberately avoided the subject of Charlie’s sex life for this reason, not wanting to anger his best friend.

Not that Charlie’s sex life is really any of his business either way, of course.

“Who cares what they think? They’re a bunch of douchebags that we’re just stuck with for the moment. We’ll probably be out of there in a month or so anyways, so they’re not even worth a second glance. They’re mud on your shoes, Carlito. What matters is that _you_ know you’re not like that. You know what you want and what you’re ready for, and you get with women who feel similarly, and it’s nobody’s business except your own. There ain’t nothing wrong with that.”

Emboldened by the speech, Charlie sits up a little straighter and nods. “Yeah, yeah, you’re right. Thanks, man. You always know what to say.”

And with this, and a tap on the arm, Charlie’s gone to mingle with the crowd again; Hector loses sight of him after a few seconds, or maybe he’s just a little too tipsy to bother.

**3**

Their first apartment together is in a building about twenty minutes away from their base. Two bedrooms, a shared bathroom, a sizeable kitchen…it’s a nice place and Hector loves it, even though half the time the elevator is down for repairs and their neighbors always seem to enjoy cooking the world’s most pungent seafood. It doesn’t really matter though because he is right where he needs to be, and enjoying every minute of it.

Hector figures Charlie feels the same way, especially when they’re brushing shoulders on the couch playing video games, or eating Chinese takeout while watching the latest action flick.

It’s almost like a haven of sorts to him, and Hector tries not to feel too territorial when a woman enters it – it’s not like he _hasn’t_ brought anyone home either, so he has no _reason_ to feel this way – because Charlie’s a single, unattached man and he’s not a five year old hoarding the sandbox.

This is what he reminds himself when Natalie comes back for a second round, and a third, and stays for breakfast and says phrases like “my boyfriend, Charlie”.

“You like her, right? I like her a lot,” Charlie says after she closes the door with a goodbye kiss, still looking in her direction despite the fact that she’s already gone.

“I can see that,” Hector jokes. “But, yeah, of course. I mean, she makes you happy, so…”

He tries not to think of this conversation too much when he comes home to Natalie storming out, the sound of her heels angrily click clacking down the hallway slowly fading. “What-?”

“She wanted to go to some concert when I'm scheduled to be working, but I didn't want to take leave for it. So of course I had to tell her I couldn’t go. And she just freaked out on me, saying how she couldn’t be with someone who puts the Army before her?”

Hector shakes his head and sits down beside his friend. “ _Civilians._ ” This gets a slight chuckle out of Charlie. “They can never _really_ understand what we go through and have to do. That’s something that only we can share-“ of course he means the general ‘we’, meant to include everyone involved in the military life, even if it feels like it’s just the two of them as he says it, “-because how are they going to understand the hell that is Basic and SERE, or what it’s like to get that first care package in the desert? They can’t know, they can only learn to deal with it because it’s a part of you, and if they can’t even do that, then tough shit. Let them walk.”

For a moment, Charlie places his hand over Hector’s, the gentlest of squeezes, more of a lengthy tap than anything else. “Thanks, man. You know, for that, I’ll make your favorite tonight. Or anything you want. You craving anything?”

“Oh, no, you don’t have to do all that. We can order some pizza instead or something, have an easy night.”

Charlie’s already up and in the kitchen, rummaging around to see what they have. “No, I insist! Besides, I want to. It’ll take my mind off things.”

Hector watches him from the couch, wishing he could do even more as he notices the tenseness in Charlie’s shoulders – instead, he lets him flit around the pots and pans, and puts a soccer game on the television, hoping it’s enough.

**2**

They stay off base until they both pass Selection, immediately requesting for shared quarters to the surprise of a few clerics. “You guys know you can each have your own space, though, right? We can put you in the same building but you two don’t have to live together.”

“We’re too used to each other for that by now,” Charlie grins, somehow putting into benign words the fact that Hector wouldn’t even know what to do with himself if Charlie wasn’t there on the couch playing Call of Duty, in the kitchen making dinner, or drying the dishes as he washed them, his own towel thrown over his shoulder.

He’s pretty sure he’d just eat take-out and watch crappy reality television shows, relying on paper plates and plastic cups. It’s a sad existence that he doesn’t like to think about too much.

Their apartment is so new the paint is still drying on the walls, and they have to open every window to air out the fumes. “Everything’s looking good,” Hector calls out as he inspects the area, surprisingly spacious for the military.

“Yeah. It’s kind of weird being back on base after so long, though.” There’s a pause, and Hector goes to find Charlie, in his new room, bed still unassembled and mattress on the floor, amidst all the boxes. “Kind of ironic too, now that Tanya and I have split. She hated that I lived off base.”

“Well, hey, you never know. There may be some flames to rekindle there.” The other soldiers helping them move are in the living room, and Hector dares to move closer, placing a hand on Charlie’s back to rub it a few times; not that anything he is doing is _bad_ , but the last thing either of them needs is an embarrassing misunderstanding, and Hector isn’t really sure he can convince anyone else of how entirely _platonic_ this all is for him, what with the way the minor contact makes his heart beat just _that_ much faster.

He knows better than to chance anything, so he steps away before Charlie can say anything, refusing to think anything of the way the other man seems to turn towards him as if wishing Hector would stay close. _That sort of thinking will compromise everything,_ he tells himself sternly.

All Charlie says is, “Yeah. Maybe,” before shrugging and going to open a box. Hector leaves him to it.

**1**

When Charlie arrives home from his mission, letting his bags drop right on the doorstep, Hector can see something is wrong. Outwardly, his expression is blank; he is not shaking, or otherwise seemingly upset; but it is all wrong, and Hector can feel it even from his spot in the hallway.

He doesn’t think twice, doesn’t question himself when he rushes forward to envelop Charlie in a hug, who automatically clings to him and refuses to let go.

Slowly, Hector crabwalks Charlie the few steps to their couch, where they collapse onto it as one entity. Time ticks by slowly, but Hector refuses to move anything beyond comforting rubs along Charlie’s spine, and through his hair, as he cries into his chest, quietly, still managing to be contained even when he isn’t.

It’s surprisingly only ten minutes later when Charlie pulls away, bleary eyed and red cheeked, swiping a hand down his face in embarrassment. “Sorry…”

“No. None of that.” Hector sits up and pushes a damp curl out of Charlie’s face, letting his hand take a detour along his jawline. “Do you want to talk about what happened?”

“Probably should. But…not really. Not right now.”

Hector nods, and gets up to get Charlie a glass of water. “You know where to find me when you’re ready.”

He accepts the glass of water and sips at it slowly, before leaving the room to put his things away. Slowly, normalcy is regained – they order Chinese for dinner, play a fighter game, watch part of a terrible science fiction movie – and Hector accepts that he probably will never know what went wrong on this last mission. It’s just the way life in the Unit is.

That is, until he’s getting dressed for bed and Charlie’s knocking gently at his door, biting his lip so hard it’s bleeding. “I’m ready,” is all he says, sitting himself down on Hector’s bed without asking, knowing he doesn’t have to. “I lost someone, Hector. A young woman. She’d barely lived, barely experienced _anything_ , and now she won’t get to, because I made a mistake…”

Hector lets the shirt drop from his hands, not bothering to finish dressing, instead going straight to Charlie to listen. It’s all he can do, but that’s all Charlie needs anyways.

**+1**

After the third woman of the night walks away from Charlie at the bar, Hector thinks that maybe they should end the bar run early, if only to spare his friend further humiliation. “Sorry, man. Better luck next time.”

Charlie merely shrugs and shoots Hector a bit of a mischievous smile. “The night’s still young.”

_Does he think I’m driving him to another bar?_ Hector taps his fingers against the wheel of his Jeep and shakes his head. “We’re going back home, you know.”

“I know.”

Mystified, Hector doesn’t say anything as they pull up to their building, parking in his assigned spot in the lot.

He’s still thinking about the odd statements even as they ride the elevator and enter their own apartment, where he turns to look at Charlie, to ask, “About what you said in the car…you didn’t mean…?”

“I did, yeah. But it’s okay if you’re not ready.”

Hector isn’t drunk – he just _drove_ , even – so there’s no reason for his mind to be this muddled, incapable of catching up to Charlie’s meaning. The other man is patient, turning on a few lights and slipping out of his shoes, before returning to where he’s still standing in the living room, car keys in hand. “Really, Hector, it’s fine. I was just thinking about how I like you, and you like me-“

“You were never supposed to know about that,” Hector says sharply, snapping out of his trance, backing away to throw the car keys down on to the counter and start to take off his jacket, his eyes averted.

“Hey, I’ve known you since before you learned to lie, remember? You weren’t really exactly subtle about it early on,” Charlie smirks. “But I didn’t want to scare you off, or anything. I thought, by now though…”

“You _sent_ those women away, tonight.” It’s not meant, but there’s a revelatory tone of voice attached to the phrasing as it all comes crashing down on Hector, what he was _really_ seeing – not the repeated rejections of Charlie’s own advances, as he had thought.

“Yes. I had someone else on my mind, it wouldn’t have been fair.”

Gently tugging on Hector’s shirt, he reaches up to kiss the taller man, slowly at first, as if to test the waters. “Guess you were right, then.”

“Hm?”

“The night is still young,” Hector murmurs before leaning down for another kiss.


End file.
